Living with Apple White
by Bubbly Washing Machine
Summary: Who needs an alarm clock? Raven Queen wakes up every morning to the sweet sound of Apple White's singing.


I like sleep. That's not a secret. I'm also very forgetful, and that's also not a secret, meaning that every night I neglect to set an alarm to wake me up in the morning.

But who needs an alarm clock? I don't. I live with Apple White. And every. Single. Morning, she wakes up (bright eyed and rosy cheeked, no bedhead in sight) and floats about the room gracefully as she prepares herself for a hard day of being a princess, merrily belting out ballads and show tunes, just for me.

I feel _so_ lucky sometimes. Just so lucky. So very lucky.

"A spoonful of SUGAR helps the MEDICINE go doooooooown, the medicine go DOOOOOWN, the MEDICINE GO DOOOOOWWWWWN …" She trills as she pulls a blue lace dress over her head. Honestly, her voice is so high, we could use her as our fire alarm.

I pull my pillow back over my head. Last night was karaoke night with Cedar and Maddie, and my voice and feet are still sore from laughing, singing and dancing. At least the music we listen to isn't on the Muse-ik curriculum for Princessology…

I'm slipping back into a blissful slumber, feeling oddly… comforted by Apple's melodies, when suddenly, the next Snow White herself cheerily rips my blanket off the bed, tugs the pillow from my sleep-weakened grip and is dragging me across the carpet to the bathroom before you can say 'princess pea-butter sandwich'.

"Apple, no. I have at least four minutes of sleep before my alarm goes off." I protest weakly. The blonde ignores my attempts to escape, breezily throwing me onto the tiles and standing above me, victorious. But this is not over. I crawl across the battlefield, barely glimpsing the oasis that is my bed before Apple smiles innocently and slams the bathroom door shut. I know I must have either been snoring or I've slept in, based on the pitying look she's giving me. She's done this before. Last time, I was forced to go to class wearing a pink sweater-dress, a mass-produced t-shirt bearing the words I ❤ Apple, gold leggings, furry boots and a loveheart pendant as punishment for snoring.

"Your internal clock must be off by and hour and ten minutes, Raven. Class starts in half an hour."

That wakes me up. Half an hour?! How long has Apple been singing?

No longer sleepy, I stand up cautiously and watch in amazement as she sticks her head out the window and whistles sweetly. Not long after, about fifteen small birds come swooping into the bathroom we share. They swarm around me, carrying my brushes and makeup and clothes in their beaks, which Apple is taking great pleasure in passing out. They pull on my skull painfully while brushing my tangled hair, almost take out an eye when attempting mascara, and tear holes in my pyjamas as they try to dress me for the day.

But it's over quickly. I'm left standing dazed amongst a cloud or feathers, dressed in an outfit that Apple picked out, my purple and black locks neatly in two braids. I glare at her. She beams back at me, helpy and do-goodery, as always immune to my stormy temper.

I've got to admit; this is a nice outfit though. She has learnt from last time I woke up this late. I didn't think the princess ever really understood my sense of style, but she's hit the nail on the head with this one. Lots of black, lots of purple, silver, studs, fishnets. You can't really go wrong. Unless you add pink, which is not a colour I particularly like, which is funny because all my magic is pink.

Now that I think about it, it's a good thing I'm so pretty and, you know, magic (yup), because really the only other thing I've got going for me is my sarcastic inner monologue.

"Erm… Thanks, Apple. This is… a really nice outfit?" I manage to say it in a fairly nonthreatening, polite-though-slightly-bemused-and-in-extreme-awe kind of way.

She gives me a wide smile and closes her eyes, basking in the hard-won glory of my begrudging gratitude.

"You are welcome, dear Raven. Just doing my part for the poor, exhausted karaoke singers who can't seem to remember to set an alarm… ever…" She opens one eye at me and pokes me in the stomach. I laugh and push past her into the main room, and she follows, humming to herself.

I know she's just teasing me, but I know that I of all people don't need an alarm in the mornings.

I live with Apple White.


End file.
